


The Last Table Story OR A New Beginning

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Missing Scene, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-22
Updated: 2006-03-22
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: The table has an uncertain future.





	The Last Table Story OR A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Season NINE!!. Intense situations. Abuse of old military furniture. that constitutes life outside the SGC.  


* * *

I am a table. I am a rectangular four-foot wide by eight-foot long, golden oak table with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. This is important, because though it removes me from the level of fine furniture, it adds to my versatility and my longevity. I was purchased in the early 90's by the U.S. Air Force Quartermaster in a spasm of upgrades for the offices of NORAD. After I was delivered, I was reassigned to a priority slot in a new command under the mountain cryptically referred to as SGC. I can seat eight formally, ten comfortably, and twelve friendly. Because I was purchased without chairs, I knew that my life would be one of utilitarianism not formal dining. In other words, I've seen a lot of service of all kinds. 

I've been sitting in the storage room now for some time. Nobody seemed to need me for anything lately. I'd heard lots of rumors from other office furniture, but nothing solid. Finally, I'd heard a story from podium that a big celebration had happened and tall military Jack had put a second shiny thing on his shoulders that made his uniform look like stout military George's. There was lots of clapping, but he said that tall military Jack and tall civilian Daniel didn't look particularly happy afterwards. I wondered what had happened. No one seemed to know.

Then one day some big military mobiles came into our storage room. They took some old chairs with holes in their seats and broken legs. They took some old metal desks that were dented or scratched. And, to my surprise, they picked me up too. Then I realized what was happening. I was old and dented and scratched also. I was being salvaged.

They carried us all to the elevator and then on up out of the SGC. Once outside the mountain, they put us all together and jumbled up into a great big truck. They didn't wrap my legs or anything. They just threw me up onto the truck and then they tossed a heavy chain across my surface. It scratched my finish. But it didn't matter anymore. No body wanted old ugly furniture. Nobody wanted me.

I and the rest of the junk sat waiting to be driven off to wherever they were taking us. I couldn't complain after all. I'd been around for a long time. I'd seen lots of amazing things, lots of happy times, and a few very sad times. But all things change if you wait long enough and my time had come.

Then, I saw a big square tan car pull into a parking lot. It said Land Rover on the front of its shiny grill. Then a tall mobile with glasses got out of the car and started to walk into the SGC. It was tall, civilian Daniel. I solemnly said goodbye to my friend. I knew that I would never see him again.

As he crossed the parking lot, he noticed the truck sitting there. He got a funny look on his face and turned toward where we were sitting. My friend came over to where we were all were sitting tied to the big truck. He peeked in between the other furniture to get a better look at me. I thought for a moment he recognized me, but he just shook his head and started into the mountain that had been my home for more than ten years. I was quite old for a piece of office furniture.

Then I saw him again. My Daniel was coming back with the truck driver mobile. They walked over and he pointed into the truck's loaded bed . . . he pointed right at me.

"That one, that oak table," he said very firmly. "I want you to take it off the truck."

"Sorry, Doctor Jackson, but it's on my bill of lading. I can't take it off. It's going to DRMO with the rest of the old furniture. General Landry has ordered the whole lot salvaged."

"No, you don't understand." Tall civilian Daniel said in a loud voice. "That's my table. I use it in my office."

"I understand sir, but you're getting a brand-new one next week," the driver mobile explained to him. That only seemed to upset my Daniel even more.

As they stood there arguing, I saw another tall military mobile come over to the truck. "What's going on, Doctor Jackson?"

"Oh, good. Colonel Mitchell, I need your help to get this table off of the truck," tall civilian Daniel said to him.

The young mobile looked at me through the chains that bound me and rest of the load to the flat bed of the truck. "This big one? Why?"

"It's a long story, but believe me, it's very important that I get this table."

The new military mobile gave him a funny look but finally said. "Well, okay," He nodded at the driver mobile. "Go ahead, take it off."

"But sir," the stubborn driver mobile said again. "I have it on my invoice. I can't take it off, and look, it's all scratched now. It's not worth anything."

"Well, if it's not worth anything, then give it to me," my Daniel said angrily. 

I saw that a crowd was beginning to gather. I could see tall military Siler, short civilian Lee, silly civilian Felgar, short military Walter, and lots of other people I had been used by. 

Tall civilian Siler stepped up and looked at me. He was very angry also. "I just fixed that table. It's not ready to go to the junkyard yet," he said unhappily.

Finally, another medium sized military mobile came up to where they were all talking. He was short and had grey in his hair and two shiny things on his shoulders. "What's going on here?"

Tall, military Mitchell saluted the new mobile so I knew that he was very important. Then he said, "Doctor Jackson was trying to get that table off of the truck, sir."

Tall civilian Daniel looked at him too. "General Landry, I really need this table."

"Doctor Jackson, we're getting all new replacement furniture for the command. You'll have a brand new table come next week. There won't be room for it in your office."

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't want a new one. I like this table. I really need it back." Tall civilian Daniel was getting very upset and very unhappy. I was proud that he cared so much for an old broken, scarred table like me.

Tall military Siler nodded. "Sir, that's a really good strong oak table. I just put a new leg on it last year. It's good for a long time yet."

Now the important military mobile Landry looked at them as if they had cracked a board. He frowned and looked from tall civilian Daniel, to tall military Mitchell, and finally he looked at me.

"Take the table off the truck," he said to the driver mobile.

"But sir!"

"Don't but me. Take the damned table off the truck." Then he turned to my friend. "Look, Doctor Jackson, we don't need this table anymore, but if you want it as bad as all that, you can have it. Just take it home with you. I'll get the paperwork done so you can have it legally." The important military Landry walked away shaking his head.

Tall civilian Daniel smiled really big and looked over at tall military Siler. "Help me get it off the truck, will you Dave?"

"Sure Doctor J. Here," he looked at the driver mobile, "give me a hand with the chain."

So, with everyone watching, tall civilian Daniel, tall civilian driver, tall military Siler, and even tall military Mitchell all climbed up on the truck and loosened the chains that held me on the flatbed. They were very careful when they lifted me off the truck, not like when I was thrown up on it. Then they carried me over to tall civilian Daniel's big square tan car. It had a luggage rack on the roof that protected it and let it carry things . . . things like an old scarred, scratched up table.

They threw a blanket over the top of the car, then set me up on the luggage rack top down and carefully fastened me on with soft cotton ropes that someone had brought over to them. After they were finished, tall civilian Daniel patted me on my underside and smiled again. Tall military Siler smiled at him too. 

"Gonna take it home Doctor J?"

"Yes, I've got just the place for it."

So I sat upside down on the roof of the car all day. It felt funny but not uncomfortable. I could feel the warmth of the sun and I could hear what I remembered to be birds singing.

That evening, tall civilian Daniel came back out, checked the ropes that held me on, and then got into the car. I felt the wind blow between my legs as he drove down the mountain and through the streets. Soon he turned into the driveway of a house.

Then very, very carefully, he and a neighbor mobile carried me up the sidewalk and into a very big living room. When he finally set me upright, I could see a fireplace and a big piano in the room. There were other things, but I could tell the piano was important to him by the way it sat in front of the big picture window that looked out into the large back yard. 

After he sat me down, he looked at me and frowned. He rubbed his hands over my surface, pausing a minute to inspect the filled in bullet hole, and ran his hand over my rounded corner. He pushed on me gently and nodded when I didn't wobble or tilt on my new leg. "Well, old table," he said to me in a soft voice, "we've been through a lot together, but you're welcome here now. Nobody will ever throw you away again."

Then my Daniel went into the kitchen and came back out with a bottle of tung oil and a soft cotton cloth. He very gently massaged the oil into my scratches and dents that the cruel chain had dug into me. They weren't very deep. I am made of very good oak after all. When he finished with my top, he crawled under me and cleaned my legs with the oil too. He chuckled softly to himself, as if remembering something that had happened once.

When he was all through with the oil and the cloth, he carefully moved me up against the front wall. There was a nice window there too, and I could look out and see the front yard where the young mobiles played and the birds sang in the trees.

He finally left me there alone as he went about the house doing things to set it right. Some time later he came back to me carrying some things. On my surface he sat some very heavy old books and two solid brass humpy backed animal statues for bookends. Then he brought some pictures. One of them was the silver framed portrait of a pretty dark haired lady that I remembered from his office. Another was an old wooden frame with a picture of him when he was very young sitting on another humpy backed animal. In a third gold frame there was a picture of all of my friends together . . . tall civilian Daniel, big alien Teal'c, military lady Sam, and tall military Jack. Then, lastly, he put a big pillar candle in a very nice thick silver candle holder with a big rim so no wax would run onto my surface. He lit the candle and it put out a very nice smell, like the cinnamon cookies that small medical Janet used to bake for him a long time ago.

My Daniel stepped back and nodded and I could tell he was very pleased with me. Then he said in a very soft, very sad voice, "Well, Jack, we're here waiting, and when you get tired of all the politics, the meetings, and the crap, there will always be a candle burning on the table here in the window so you can find your way back home to us."

The end, or a new beginning?


End file.
